


my hand (never to be held again)

by censored



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Crying, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mentioned Gwen Stacy, Mentioned MJ - Freeform, Multi, Sobbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26488198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/censored/pseuds/censored
Summary: There was no reason to hide grief when no one could see.
Relationships: Harry Osborn/Peter Parker
Comments: 18
Kudos: 31





	my hand (never to be held again)

**Author's Note:**

> i got a spark of an idea for this and sat down and wrote it in like an hour. its not proofread very closely, so hopefully its okay

The denim was scratching at his cheeks. He would have stopped, but it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His knees were soaked, his cheeks burning as the salty tears intermixed with the sensitive skin as he pressed his face deeper and deeper. A gasp threatened to escape and he quickly shoved his palm over his lips, muffling the breath. 

A moment too late, he realized he didn’t need to silence his grief. Not like after his mother had died, when Norman had thrown himself into work and Harry quietly sobbed in the bathroom down the hall from his office. Lights off, the door shut and locked, just like it was now. It had become a habit at this point. He’d done it after his mother died, after he discovered his father was the Green Goblin, after Peter had told him he was Spider-Man, after he realized one of his best friends from boarding school would never message him again; the dark bathroom was his safe space. 

There was no reason to hide grief when no one could see. 

Even though Harry knew that no one would hear his sobs, the penthouse empty, and he alone above the millions of people in New York City. He didn’t have to worry about his mother stumbling upon him, like she’d done that one time when he was barely eight years old and had hidden in the bathroom, lights off, face shoved into his knees, but door unlocked. She’d stumbled upon him and sat down on the cold bathroom tile in her overalls and brushed her thumbs over his cheeks to wipe his tears and had asked him if he was okay. After she’d died, Harry began to lock the door.

Norman never found him and he wouldn’t find him. His father was in jail.

He’d never felt like a father, but now, he wasn’t even human.

Good riddance, Harry thought for not the first time. 

His sobs reignited as his mental list faltered. Who would have found him crying?

Peter.

Peter wouldn’t find him either. 

In a few hours, someone would stumble upon Spider-Man’s body and report it. Within minutes, the entirety of New York would know who had been their hero for nearly a decade. His name scrawled across every broadcast. His picture everywhere. 

Peter Parker. 

2001-2024. 

23-years-old. 

Peter Parker’s name and picture would be spread everywhere, once again. The world already knew him. They would recognize his name.  _ Wasn’t he the one Harry Osborn was dating? _

In a few hours, Gwen would probably call him. But she wouldn’t find him. She was across the world with MJ by her side. 

Harry could picture them hand in hand, both of their phones buzzing, the shock on their faces. Maybe Gwen would press her hand against her mouth to muffle her sobs, just as Harry was now. Maybe MJ would swipe her thumbs across Gwen’s cheeks and pull her in for a hug, just as Harry’s mother had done all those years ago. Maybe they would both pull him in for a hug. Not now, but when, but if they decided to fly back to the United States. They hadn’t been back in so long, Harry didn’t know if they’d return. 

There was too much tragedy in New York. The two of them had left. Peter had stayed for Spider-Man. Harry had stayed for Peter.

There was nothing keeping him here now.

He was cold. It was seeping into his bones, goosebumps rising on his arms as Harry kept his face pressed into his knees. In a moment, he’d start shivering. Just as he always did.

Peter was usually the one who was cold. 

At least that wasn’t going to change. 

In the silence of the penthouse, he heard his phone buzz. Still on the living room floor, where he had dropped it in anguish. 

It started buzzing and Harry counted them, only for them to start immediately again. Not just a social call then. 

He was so far from the people walking on the sidewalks below, but Harry swore Manhatten became silent. 

The ambient noise he had grown so used to, only to be shipped off to Europe where sleepless nights plagued him, lowered. His buzzing phone was the only thing he could hear, other than his own muffled sobs. 

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

Barely a second before it started again. 

His heartbeat echoed in time with the calls. The hand wrapped around his shins began tapping a pattern. 

A pattern that Peter always did when they held hands. 

Harry felt lightheaded. 

He needed to breathe.

He finally moved his hand from over his mouth, letting his choked off sobs echo in the small room. 

Breathe.

Breathe. 

Breathe.

_ It wasn’t working _ . 

He was going to pass out if he didn’t breathe. 

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

Harry breathed in. 

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

Harry breathed out. 

His teeth were chattering, his body raked in shivers, but he was breathing.

A small part of his mind wondered if it was actually Gwen or MJ or anyone he actually knew calling him yet. Or if it was just interviewer after interviewer hoping to be the first to get the information, just like they had done after the Green Goblin’s identity was finally revealed. They wouldn’t care that their questions were insensitive, no sympathy at all. They wouldn’t start the call with anything other than asking when he was free to be questioned.

He could hear them now.

_ Did you know that you were dating Spider-Man? _

Harry would respond by hanging up the call, walking away, snarking them, sobbing-  _ something _ . He didn’t know what he’d do. He didn’t know if he’d be able to force a word out again. 

_ Peter, hey, what’s going on? Are you okay? _

The calls continued, but Harry didn’t know if he would ever be able to pick up his phone again. Not after that phone call. 

_ Harry, I love you, I’m so sorry, I love you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I love- _

**Author's Note:**

> <3


End file.
